


Kukoku no kyouon

by HamHamHeaven



Series: Tanbinaru Shi no Shoukei [3]
Category: Jrock, Jupiter (Band), Nightmare (Band), Versailles (Band)
Genre: Corpse Desecration, Cyclops Masashi (Versailles | Jupiter), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Empath Masashi (Versailles | Jupiter), Empathic Character, Hallucinations, Implied Necrophilia, Inter-Planetary Travel, M/M, Madness, Mentioned Other Jrock/Visual Kei Artist(s), Mentioned Tetsuya (L'Arc~en~Ciel), Non-Romantic Mate Bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamHamHeaven/pseuds/HamHamHeaven
Summary: Pursued by The Authorities and forced to crash-land on an inhospitable planet, Ni~ya fights to maintain his sanity and preserve the life of the one he loves most.





	Kukoku no kyouon

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW VKYaoi community August challenge - spotlight a bassist (or two). Story takes its title from the Dir en Grey song [空谷の跫音](https://youtu.be/WSwwN8nvJ-4), which I have seen translated as "Footsteps in a Lonely Valley".  
> 

Ni~ya came awake slowly, consciousness reluctant to fight its way to the surface through the haze of confusion and agony.  He cracked open one eye, then hastily closed it again.  Every muscle fibre in his body resonated with pain; every joint, from his toes to his jaw, ached.  It hurt to breathe, to swallow, to think.  Maybe he should just go back to sleep.  It wouldn’t hurt so much then.

_Ni~ya, wake up._

The broken memories of how he’d gotten there washed over him.   The Authorities sudden attack on the settlement, being caught inside the ship as the crew prepared for emergency take-off in an attempted escape.  Space sickness and vertigo as the craft had lurched and swerved to avoid the military weapons.  Cowering in a corner of the mess hall as the others rushed back and forth along the corridor shouting warnings and commands.  A deafening boom that rocked the floor beneath him as one of those weapons apparently found its mark.  Pitching sideways, intense pain, and then… blackness.

_Ni~ya_ , a weak voice seemed to call, from where he could not distinguish. 

His eyes snapped open with a start.  He tries to answer, but found he couldn’t manage anything more than the pitiful whimper of a wounded animal.  He sat up slowly, leaning his pounding head against the wall until his equilibrium caught up.  Freezing cold air perfumed with a hint of something putrid tingled in his nostrils.  Somewhere further along, an eerie moan echoed along the corridors.  

Wind.  

That wasn’t good.  If the wind could be heard so clearly, that meant that the hull had been breached. 

_At least the air isn’t toxic_ , he thought.

The ship listed to one side, leaving the floor at a precarious angle, so he grabbed a nearby bench and table, which were bolted to the floor, and heaved himself up slowly onto his feet.  Once again, Ni~ya’s head began to swim, so he braced himself, first against the table then the wall, until the nausea and blurry vision subsided.

He stepped out of the dining room, turning first to the left then right, trying to decide what he ought to do and where to go. His first thought was to head for the cargo bay for a warmer uniform, but further along that corridor was a pile of something that looked suspiciously like snow.  No wonder it was so cold.  If they were going to have to dig out supplies and rations, it made sense to see how many of the others were alive to help before he began.  He could see that the bunk room directly across from the mess hall was empty: bedding strewn everywhere.  He grabbed two of the blankets and wrapped them around his shoulders like a cape. 

Rounding the corner, he came across the first of crew – two jovial tangerine-skinned Icterin brothers who had ordered flower nectar at every outpost and sang the lewdest tunes imaginable.  They lay face-down, their charred backs embedded with hundreds of metal fragments.  Ni~ya fell to his knees, retching at the sight.  He wasn’t a soldier, though he’d taken a few lives in self-defence over the years.  Disposing of one of the government’s mindless drones was one thing.  Finding someone you’d called ‘friend’ dead in such a horrific manner was something else entirely.

It took several minutes before he could calm himself enough to reach out a trembling hand and retrieve the small weapon from Kiri’s stiff claw.  Skirting around the corpses into the propulsion room, Ni~ya immediately discovered the source of the deadly shrapnel.  One of the solid fuel tanks had exploded, spraying fiery projectiles across the entire area.  Several bodies hung pinned to the walls, and Ni~ya suspected that if he dared to venture further, he’d find severed limbs in the debris.  He closed his eyes, swaying on his feet for a moment.

“Anyone here?” he croaked.

The howling of the wind was his only answer.

“The infirmary,” he said aloud to himself.  “If anyone survived that blast, they’d have gone to the infirmary.”

He followed the downward sloping passage across to what was left of the tiny medical bay.  Whatever hope Ni~ya had was extinguished at the sight of more piles of sparkling white spilling out of the door.  How long had he been unconscious?  Quite a while, if they’d been stationary long enough for so much snow to blow in. 

To his surprise, he found it was sand rather than snow: frozen but unmelting in his hands.  Not that it particularly mattered to the bodies likely entombed within it.  Ni~ya scrambled over and through the drifts until he reached the gaping hole near the roof.  He stood on his toes, trying to see out, but the sand gave way beneath his feet, and without thinking, he grabbed hold of the rim to steady himself. 

The sharp edges of the exposed metal sliced into his palms.  With a yelp of pain, he fell on his back in the sand, cradling his hands to himself and fighting back the mounting panic within.

_Dead.  Everyone was dead.  Kiri, Kei, Mitsuo, Yuchi, Hagino, Masashi…._

He stiffened.

Gods no, not Masashi!

That was when it occurred to him.

The flight deck!

Navigation was usually a heavily-targeted area for weapons fire, but there was always a _chance_.

Digging through the storage cabinets as best he could with his bleeding hands, he found an unopened med kit, which he tucked under one arm.  Using the other arm to balance, he staggered back along the corridor toward what had once been the front of the ship.

Unlike the other areas, the door to navigation was closed, blocked by a metal beam and partially collapsed ceiling.

“Is anyone there?” he called, uncertain whether his voice could penetrate.

There was no reply.

“If you can hear me, I’m going to try to get you out.  Just… hold on for a few minutes.”

‘A few minutes’ was a significant underestimate.  The gashes on Ni~ya’s palms kept reopening as he worked to shove the metal beam and bits of ceiling aside, making the wreckage slick with sweat and gore.  The blood loss made him light-headed, and the gritty sand stung irritatingly.  He’d been saving the med kit for whoever he might find at the helm, but he was soon forced to stop temporarily and use some of the bandages himself as best he could.

Once a majority of the rubble was cast aside, he studied the door closely.  It looked as if some enormous creature had grabbed both sides and tried to bend it in half.  Normally, all of the doors opened and closed electronically, but the state of the engine room made it clear there would be no electricity for the foreseeable future.  His only option was to find the manual release and hope the mechanism wasn’t too bent to function. 

He popped several plastic panels from the wall with the edge of a metal shard until he found one with a wide metal handle behind it.  He threw all of his weight against the lever, feeling both relieved and frustrated when the door slid open only a few centimetres.  The icy stream of air and sand that came pouring out caused him to take several steps back and pull one of the blankets up over his head to shield his ears.

_So cold!_  

No one could survive long in those conditions.  He’d have to hurry.

“I’ll get you out,” he promised, as yet unsure if there was anyone left to listen.

Wriggling his fingers through the gap, he took as firm a grip as he could manage and pulled.  It didn’t budge.  He tried again… and again, each passing second increasing his urgency.  He _had_ to get it open.  He just _had_ to.  He was their last hope.  Masashi’s only hope.

Ignoring the ache in his head and the blood soaking through his dressings, he gave a mighty heave.  It slid further open – enough that he could fit his arm and shoulder through the gap.  Spurred by this little victory, he wedged his torso between the frame and the door, grunting with exertion until centimetre by centimetre he forced it open to the bend at the centre.  There wasn’t any room to spare, but he could get through, and that was enough.

Ni~ya didn’t let his eyes linger long on the pilot to his left.  The grotesque angle of her neck was all the proof he needed that she was beyond help.  It disturbed him.  But the one who _really_ mattered, the one he’d come for was in the captain’s chair to the right.  Buried in fine powder up to his neck, Masashi bore no visible signs of injury.  His face was serene, single eye closed.

“Please don’t be dead.  Please don’t be dead,” Ni~ya chanted as he began scooping and brushing the sand away from the man’s large frame.

Sand ran out and down, covering his feet quickly, so that he practically had to march in place to keep them unobstructed. 

Set against the centre of Masashi’s chest was a large metal buckle into which six belts were attached.  Fingers trembling with the cold and trepidation, Ni~ya reached out and unfastened the strap that ran over the left shoulder, hoping to open the flight suit enough to check for a heartbeat.  As he did, a small puff of air escaped Masashi’s thin lips, the briefest of vapours.  Ni~ya could have wept with relief.

“Masashi, can you hear me?”

He cupped the captain’s jaw, tenderly tilting his head.  Yes, there was definitely a pulse fluttering there beneath his fingertips.  Impulsively, he kissed the man on the forehead.

“Just keep breathing for me, Love,” he requested.  “I promise I’ll do the rest, if you just keep breathing.”

He set to again, alternating between shovelling sand through the gap into the corridor with the plastic panels and carefully brushing it away from the trapped man’s limbs.  Masashi’s left hand still clutched the weapons’ firing mechanism, and as Ni~ya carefully pried his fingers open, the captain suddenly came awake with a hiss of pain.

“Sorry,” Ni~ya apologized, at once kneeling down at the captain’s side as best he could.  “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

For a minute, Masashi’s eye remained unfocused and clouded with confusion, but eventually his vision cleared as he stared intently at Ni~ya’s face.

“You,” he said, voice a gruff rumble.

“Me,” Ni~ya confirmed with an apologetic smile.

“The others?”

Ni~ya shook his head sadly.

“We’re all that’s left, I’m afraid.  I’ll get you out soon.”

Masashi gave a sniff of disapproval.

“You should… go.”

Ni~ya gaped at him in alarm. 

“Go?  Go where!”

“Away.  Before the authorities… come for survivors.”

Ni~ya hadn’t thought about The Authorities.  Ni~ya didn’t _care_ about The Authorities.

“I’m not leaving until I get you out,” he repeated firmly.

“No point,” the captain reasoned.  “Can’t feel my legs.”

A hard lump of dread seemed to form in Ni~ya’s chest at those words.

“That’s just the cold,” he insisted.  “I’ll shift all of this sand and find you a couple of thermal blankets, and everything will be fine.  You’ll see.”

His denial seemed to irritate the captain.

“I’m going to _die_ , Ni~ya, and if you stay here, you’re going to die too.”

Tears sprang into Ni~ya’s eyes at the harshness of the other man’s tone.

“M-maybe,” he admitted.  “But I don’t care!  _You_ may be content to spend your last moments utterly alone, but I’m not.”

Masashi’s expression softened.  The prospect of dying alone certainly wasn’t appealing.

“Guess I should sit quietly and let you rescue me, then.”

“That’s right,” declared Ni~ya, forcefully wiping his eyes on his sleeve.  “Follow orders or I’ll have you court-martialled.”

Despite the bleak outlook, the captain chuckled at the idle threat of his civilian passenger.  The sound filled Ni~ya with confidence and determination.  He had made stoic Masashi laugh!

 

Going was slow.  Masashi’s left wrist appeared to be broken and his right shoulder dislocated, so he wasn’t able to assist much.  By the time Ni~ya had Masashi’s body freed down to the knees, the younger man was quite worn out.  He draped both of his blankets over Masashi’s immobile form, and sat panting with his back braced against the bent door.

“You need water.  Food,” Masashi observed.

“Still trying to get me to leave you?” retorted Ni~ya mildly.

“Looking after you, since you refuse to look after yourself.”

Ni~ya’s cheeks coloured with shy affection, and after a mumbled excuse about bringing Masashi something to eat too, he hurried off, hoping that the overall gravity of the situation would keep Masashi from feeling the truth.

Empaths.  It was impossible to keep anything from them for long.

He took the long way around to the mess hall to avoid the corpses of the crew, grabbed some solid and liquid ration packs, then doubled back to the bunk room for another blanket.  It wasn’t as though anyone else would be needing them.  He munched on a nutrition bar as he made his way back, eager to replenish his strength quickly.

 Masashi had dozed off in the few minutes he’d been away, so Ni~ya finished his own food and water ration silently, mentally debating the best way to proceed.  The door wasn’t open quite wide enough for Masashi’s broad shoulders to fit through squarely.  If he could step through sideways, everything would be fine, but if he was correct about not being able to move his legs, Ni~ya would have to carry him somehow.

“Masashi,” he caressed the captain’s cheek softly to rouse him. “I brought you something to drink.”

Once again, Masashi’s dark eye opened, and Ni~ya could feel his chest tighten at the agony-filled beauty he observed there.

“If this is all too much, you can give some of it to me,” he offered impulsively.

Masashi blinked and gave a minute shake of the head.

“You’re in enough pain as it is without adding mine.”

Ni~ya had forgotten his own discomfort until Masashi mentioned it, then his head began to throb and his palms burn.  Perhaps it would be just as well not to bear any more until after he’d liberated Masashi from the cockpit.

“Have some water at least?”

Ni~ya held the packet for Masashi to drink; most of the liquid seemed to end up dribbling down his chin.  Ni~ya wiped it away with the corner of one of the blankets, then offered him a nutrition supplement, which was declined.  Once he realized he would never convince the captain to eat before he was ready, Ni~ya returned to removing the sand from the man’s legs. 

Quite by accident, he found that the seats rotated, and that by turning Masashi to face the centre rather than forward, he gained some additional space.  Which was fortunate, because the wind had picked up again and was threatening to undo all of his hard work by blowing the cabin full of sand through the cracked view-screen.  Slowness and caution lost to expediency.  Gently as he could, he tugged each of Masashi’s legs free of the dune, extending it as fully as the limited space would allow and massaging lightly to stimulate some blood flow.  Masashi groaned, filling Ni~ya with optimistic concern.

“You can feel that?” he asked hopefully.

“Seems I’m slightly less dead than I thought.”

Ni~ya ignored the comment.  He unfastened the rest of the flight belts, testing the amount of pressure he could exert on Masashi’s torso.

“Will hurt no matter what,” Masashi sighed.  “Just do it.”

“I’m mostly worried about puncturing one of your lungs with a broken rib.”

“You Taureans manage just fine with only two lungs,” wheezed Masashi.  “So can I, if it comes to that.”

Ni~ya tried to ignore Masashi’s alluring scent and the way his hair tickling against Ni~ya’s cheek as he slid the captain forward enough in the chair that he could wrap his arms around the injured man, hand locking over wrist.

“Brace yourself,” he warned.

It was an awkward lift, what with the insufficient room and the unstable footing on shifting sand and Masashi’s inert weight.  The captain’s knees seemed ready to buckle almost at once, so Ni~ya used the slide of the sand to aid him as he stepped back and down through the opening into the corridor, pulling Masashi along at just enough of an twist to avoid impact with his dislocated shoulder.

They collapsed backward, Ni~ya pressed between the far wall and Masashi’s body, which sagged heavily against him.  He hadn’t really thought through what he was going to do once they were out of the cabin.  If he laid the captain on the floor, there’d be no getting him back up, he was sure of that.

Where could he take him?  The infirmary?  Back to more of the sand from which they’d just escaped?  Ni~ya thought of the gaping hole and the bitter wind.  No, absolutely not the infirmary.  He’d never be able to lift Masashi into an upper berth in the bunkroom, but the head clearance on the lower was much too small for him to manoeuvre around.  More than one fully-mobile person had smacked his head getting in and out of those lower bunks.  The cargo bay, perhaps?  But that was at the opposite end of the ship, so very far away. 

_Could he bear Masashi that great of a distance?_

“Told you to leave me.”

“Shush,” Ni~ya grumbled, “If you haven’t anything useful to say, save your breath.”

Scolding in this way, Ni~ya dragged Masashi along the passage.  In the end, Masashi was stretched out on top of a table in the mess hall, Ni~ya flopped on the bench at his side.

“Let me… catch my breath and then… I’ll see about your shoulder.”

Masashi’s chest barely rose or fell beneath his blankets.

“Rest, my stubborn saviour.  A few minutes more won’t kill me.”

“I wish you’d stop treating death as a joke.”

Ni~ya’s objections were muffled against the captain’s sleeve, and Masashi turned his head so that he could look at his obstinate companion.

“You’re bleeding,” Masashi observed.

Ni~ya waved his hand dismissively.

“Cut my palms earlier.  It’s nothing.”

“Not your palms, Pet.  Your head.”

Ni~ya ran a hand over his scalp until he found the sticky proof of Masashi’s words matting the hair behind his ear.

“No wonder I have a headache,” he sighed.

“And here, you’ve been so worried about me that you’ve overlooked your own wounds.  You really should rest,” Masashi repeated.

Instead of resting, Ni~ya stood with a groan.

“I should fetch something to splint your wrist.  While I’m in the infirmary, I’ll clean this up.  It’s nothing really.”

Ni~ya didn’t know why he was downplaying the damage he’d sustained.  He wasn’t in any shape to even _attempt_ to hide it, and Masashi was sure to see right through his lies.  Yet, Masashi was alive, and Ni~ya was going to do everything in his power to see that he stayed that way, even at the expense of his own health and comfort.

The planet’s sun had begun to set by that point, sinking low over the far side of the ship.  The lack of light made the infirmary seem even more sinister than it had been earlier.  Ni~ya tried not to think about the people that probably lay buried under his feet as he searched the shelves for the things he needed: a brace, a few more rolls of clean bandage, what he hoped was a bottle of antiseptic.  Once again, he detoured to the bunk room, this time collecting some pillows and a sleeping mat.

It took several attempts before Masashi’s shoulder finally worked back into the socket, and by the time Ni~ya had splinted the swollen wrist, Masashi had apparently passed out from the pain.  The stress of the day finally caught up with Ni~ya as he shifted the unconscious man back and forth, repositioning the sleeping mat and pillows around him for added comfort.  Without bothering with the gash on the back of his own head, Ni~ya curled up on the bench as best he could, permitting himself a frustrated cry as he drifted to sleep with the back of Masashi’s hand pressed against his cheek.

 

As weary as Ni~ya was, he passed a restless night.  The longer he sat motionless, the colder and stiffer he became.  The frigid atmosphere nipped at every millimetre of skin, exposed or not.  And the wuthering of the wind across the cavernous holes in the bulkhead filled his dreams, when he had them, with dark and disturbing images.  Charred flesh.  Twisted limbs.  Empty, vacant eyes.  Grey, lifeless lips.  Faces of people long gone from his life mingled with those he’d seen smiling and laughing only a few days ago.  Or a few hours.

Masashi.

He envisioned Masashi sitting cold and lifeless in his captain’s chair, an enormous X slashed across his chest.

_No!_

Ni~ya came awake with a gasp, clutching his own chest at the sting of the cold air in his lungs.  He shivered violently, both from cold and adrenaline.  Immediately, he turned his eyes toward the captain to reassure himself that his companion was still there.  Masashi _was_ there, and though a small frown creasing his brow, he continued to sleep peacefully, evidently undisturbed by Ni~ya’s night terrors, despite Ni~ya being almost _certain_ that he’d screamed aloud.

_We can’t stay here another night,_ Ni~ya thought, unconsciously brushing his lips across the back of Masashi’s hand.  _If the wind and cold don’t drive me mad, the corpses will._

But where should they go?  He had no idea where they had landed, and leaving the relative safety of the ship for some hypothetically superior destination seemed foolish.  On the other hand, space ships weren’t meant to be lived in on land.  The insulation was in all the wrong places, and there wasn’t a proper ventilation exchange, so the air became stagnant quickly.  The massive holes in the hull meant fresh air was less of a problem, but they also meant that it would be impossible to maintain anything like a liveable ambient temperature.  They needed a fire, and there was no place to build a fire in a space ship.

Loath as he was to leave Masashi’s side, Ni~ya knew that he would have to be the one providing what they needed.  Asking the captain to take charge while he was so weak seemed unpardonably burdensome.  With a huge yawn and several loud pops of the spine, Ni~ya sauntered out of the dining area.

The first place he went was the flight deck in hopes that the forward view window would provide some perspective.  He didn’t stay long.  The vista revealed nothing but rolling sand as far as the eye could see, and the rapidly-shrivelling carcass of the pilot seemed to glower at him.

Next, he made for the cargo bay.  To his surprise, he found all but two of the cargo pods intact.  They’d skidded over the sloped floor and converged toward the lowest corner, but none of the stacks had toppled over.  The two that lay open and overturned appeared to have already been empty, their locking mechanisms deactivated.  He cast a calculating eye over the inventory list hanging near the entrance.  Weapons mostly.  Hardly a surprise, but not at all useful to him. 

In fact, _most_ of the materials in the hold weren’t particularly practical.  Masashi’s crew hadn’t had a chance to offload anything before the attack had begun, which meant that a majority of the freight was intended for humid, tropical climates, not frozen tundra.

_If I’d known, I would have requisitioned rations,_ he thought sarcastically.

However, there were a few things that might prove helpful: two shovels, light metal frames and waterproof canvas for a pair of tents, some lanterns and battery packs, a number of coils of rope. Ni~ya righted one of the empty cargo pods, knotted one of the sturdy rope around its handle, and with shovel in hand dragged it out of the hold behind him toward the medical bay.  It glided quite easily across the sand, as if it had been designed to double as a sled.

The infirmary wasn’t very well stocked, but Ni~ya took everything he could lay his hands on, stacking it neatly in one corner of the crate.  As he went, he spread the sand more evenly across the floor with the shovel.  The five bodies that he unearthed he laid out along the wall, straightening their stiff limbs into something resembling peaceful positions as best he could. 

“I’ll give you a proper burial soon,” he promised.  “Once I have Masashi somewhere safer.”

He did the same in the commissary, counting the ration and water packs as he went. 207.  Consumed as they’d been intended, it would have been enough to last the crew about a week.  For just the two of them, the food would last two months.  More than that, if Ni~ya limited himself to a single meal per day.  Surely Masashi would be well enough to travel before then.

The drifts of sand didn’t go as far as the bunk room, so Ni~ya gathered up the remaining blankets, pillows, and sleeping mats by the armful, folding them as neatly as he could and using them to cushion the other precious supplied.  Then with a sigh and a heave, he dragged the entire container back to the cargo hold.

It worried him a bit that Masashi was still fast asleep upon his return, but he reasoned that the body always needed additional rest during the healing process.  He tucked himself back on the bench, nibbling unenthusiastically on the half of a nutrition bar he’d allotted himself for his work, and surveyed his companion’s motionless form.  The captain’s skin looked pale and waxy, the flesh beneath his eye as dark as a bruise.  Ni~ya reached out and took Masashi’s hand in his own, alarmed at how cold they felt against one another.

_No, we positively can’t stay here like this._

The touch seemed to rouse Masashi.  He shifted from side to side, apparently attempting without success to find a comfortable position.  Ni~ya pressed the water packet to Masashi’s dry lips, allowing the liquid to trickle down the captain’s throat a few drops at a time so that he wouldn’t choke.

“Did you rest well?” he asked, unable to think of how best to begin a conversation.

Masashi gave a short cough.

“Not the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had, but close.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ni~ya tucked the blankets closer around his companion fussily.

“Wasn’t complaining.  Better than being buried alive in sand.”

It sounded like a joke, but perhaps it wasn’t.  Ni~ya wished, not for the first time, that he could read Masashi’s feelings as the captain could sense his.  Then again, perhaps that would only make things more complicated.

“Speaking of sand,” Ni~ya offered with a wan smile, “I had a look around while you were snoozing, and we seem to be surrounded by the stuff.  Do you know of any settlements on Liùguī?”

Masashi blinked the sleep from his eye.

“Liùguī?”

“I-isn’t that where we are?” asked Ni~ya uncertainly.  “I thought I heard one of your men say….”

“That was my order at first,” Masashi acknowledged, “But I have no idea where we are now.  I was too preoccupied keeping the weapons’ system and shields functional to worry about anything else.”

Ni~ya sighed.

“In that case, I think we definitely should make camp here.  I know you were concerned about them coming after survivors, but they’ve had ample time to track us by now if that was their plan.  There’s nowhere visible that seems any safer, and what supplies we have are here.”

Masashi gave a tiny shrug with his good shoulder.

“Your decision.  Not as if I could go against you.”

Ni~ya sighed again and gave a little pout.

“You’re mind functions even if your legs are reluctant to.  Even if you can’t physically stop me, you’d tell me if my idea were a bad one.  Wouldn’t you?”

“Naturally.  Please attribute my indifference to faith in your judgment.  Since fatalism perturbs you so.”

Ni~ya figured that Masashi was just placating him, but even so the declaration of trust gratified him.

“I’m going to take a look at the outside of the ship just to be sure, but I think I’ll set up the tent frames I found in its shadow.  We’ll lose the extra heat from the sun, but it will shelter us from the worst of the winds.”

“Makes sense,” Masashi agreed.  “So long as she’s deep enough that she won’t come toppling over on us.”

“Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

“I promise I won’t run off anywhere,” teased Masashi.

Ni~ya gave a sniff of annoyance and shoved the remainder of his lunch into Masashi’s hand.

“Eat something while I’m gone,” he instructed.

 

Ni~ya exited the ship by way of an escape hatch on the roof of the cargo bay, climbing up the metal rungs of the built-in ladder.  He sat beside the open hatch for a moment, feet dangling, hands shielding his eyes from the painful brightness of the sunlight reflecting off the glistening sand.  He turned in a slow circle to survey the area, confirming that his previous assessment had been correct – nothing but sand from one horizon to the other. He tried not to think about what that would mean for them long-term if no one came to their rescue.  Instead, he focused his attention on the present, descending a similar ladder-like series of slots along the exterior. 

He had been concerned that his moving about would upset the balance of the ship, but she was wedged deep enough into the ground that there was no chance of her rocking, angled downward from both port to starboard as well as stern to bow.  She had, in fact, churned up so much of the sand during the crash that there were wide patches of solid bedrock visible beneath her.  Ni~ya followed the path hewn by the starboard landing gear downward to the exposed sublayers, carefully testing each step for sinkholes and watching futilely for any signs of water.  Even with a descent of nearly four times his height, the ground was dry as a bone.

It was bitterly cold under the ship’s shadow, but Ni~ya had been right about the hull acting as a windbreak.  If he set up the tents about mid-ship and used some of the loose rocks to make a fire pit, it might be bearable.  He might even try emptying the cargo pods containing weapons, filling them back up with sand to use as an added layer of insulation and stability.  There hadn’t been any sign of predators or hostile inhabitants, so weapons were of low priority; getting Masashi warm was his focus.

Over the next few hours, Ni~ya worked tirelessly, setting up the tent frames in an L-shaped configuration and building three small fire pits in a triangle along the tents’ interior corners.  He filled the pits with sand, ringed them with stones, and heaped solid fuel briquettes in the centre of each.  Striking scrap metal against rock, he lit each in turn and watched carefully for a while to be sure there was no danger of sparks being thrown.  Then he unrolled the canvases and arranged it all in such a way that the openings faced the fires and could be pinned back or fastened closed quickly.  He stacked several sleeping mats together in one of the tents: close enough that Masashi would get the full benefit of two of the fires, while far enough away that there was no risk of rolling over in his sleep and being burned. 

Once Ni~ya was confident with the layout of the little camp, he hurried back up the slope toward the ship.  It was gratifying to feel how much colder it was at ground level.  He’d been right to construct things as he had, and Masashi was going to be considerably more comfortable… once Ni~ya figured out how to get him there. There was no way the captain could climb up and out through the escape hatch.  Opening the cargo bay doors was the simplest solution, but it was risky.  Ni~ya couldn’t be certain that they would function in the first place, and if they did, that he could get them closed again before the entire rear of the ship blew full of sand.

Besides, there was the small matter of carrying him.  Masashi was a solid figure – tall and broad – and though Ni~ya wasn’t lacking in muscles, he wasn’t confident that he had enough energy to transport both the captain _and_ the crate of supplies.

_Might be a good idea to take the pod down first_ , he pondered.  _See how well it pulls through the sand.  If it works, maybe I can turn the other empty crate into a sled for him to lie on._

Opening the cargo bay was another exhausting process.  Once he had the escape hatch closed, Ni~ya had to locate the manual release levers to shut the interior door pre-emptively against sand, force the exterior doors open and wedge them with the beam that had been blocking the entrance to the helm so that the wind wouldn’t slam them closed again, and sweep away enough of the grit that had clogged the mechanisms to allow the ramp to extend outward.  More than once, Ni~ya picked up some useless item, ready to fling it at the wall in irritation.  Only, such a display of temper wasn’t worth the calories it would have cost him.  So he seethed and swore, but kept working.

Fortunately for his deteriorating temper, the cargo pod proved to be as excellent a sled outdoors as it had been in the sandy corridors.  The going was quite easy so long as he avoided the bare rock, and in under what he judged to be half an hour, he had their supplies organized tidily in the second tent.

Masashi seemed unenthusiastic when Ni~ya explained how he would be transporting the captain to their new accommodations but wisely kept any negative opinions to himself.  He folded his arms over his abdomen to keep the blankets in place as Ni~ya lifted him to his feet again and allowed himself to be carried out to where the ‘sled’ was awaiting him.  Along passageway, through the sub-zero cargo bay where they paused just long enough for Ni~ya to close the door behind them, and out into the world.

The captain’s reticence melted away once he was securely installed in the tent between the two fire pits.  He had Ni~ya prop his head up with several pillows so that he could look around, nodding with approval at everything that had been accomplished.

“You did an amazing job for a single afternoon’s work,” he commended.

Ni~ya’s cheeks flushed several shades of pink in the firelight, and he quickly ducked into the second tent.  He returned a few minutes later when his awkwardness had subsided, bearing an armful of clothing and a food ration.

“Will you eat now?”

Masashi shook his head.

“Ate what was left of your nutrition supplement earlier. Doesn’t take much energy to just lie here.”

“Then, let’s change you into something warmer than that flight suit,” Ni~ya suggested.  “Do you think you can sit up?”

The bashfulness Ni~ya might otherwise have felt helping Masashi to undress disappeared behind shocked fascination as he opened the captain’s flight suit to expose a massive black and purple bruise over his sternum right where the belt buckle had hung.

“What happened?” he whispered, index finger ghosting over the mark.

Masashi glanced down at the discoloured flesh thoughtfully.

“No idea.  After we hit atmosphere, it’s all kind of a blur.”

Ni~ya certainly understood that.  Most of his own memories were harrowing fragments; he could only imagine how much worse it would be for someone in the midst of the battle.

“Does it hurt to breathe?”

“Not so bad,” Masashi denied.  “Easier here in the warmer air.”

With exaggerated care, Ni~ya helped Masashi remove the flight suit and pull on the thick shirt and trousers.

“Found these stuffed into the bottom of one of the cargo pods.  No idea where they might’ve come from.”

“Who knows,” Masashi grunted. “I couldn’t tell you half of what the crew has squirreled away in there.  Always in the oddest places, too.”

Ni~ya disappeared into the second tent to change his own clothing.  The sleeves and trouser legs were too long for him, but their warmth and softness were quite welcome.

“I think you’ve given me every sleeping mat we have.  Where are you going to sleep?” Masashi asked through a yawn.

Ni~ya re-joined his companion, attention unnecessarily focused on the container of fuel in his hand.

“Thought I’d sit up for tonight.  Just to gauge how long the fuel lasts and how often the fires will need stoked.”

Masashi’s eye narrowed.

“I have a better idea.  Put different amounts on each of the fires for us to compare in the morning, and then come to bed before you exhaust yourself.  I’m not exactly in a position to nurse you if you make yourself sick.”

The captain ordering him to bed set Ni~ya’s stomach wriggling with desire.

“I… w-wouldn’t want to d-disturb you,” he stuttered, stepping further away.

“Who’s disturbed?” Masashi countered deftly.  “Will be warmer for both of us that way.  Unless you’re still afraid of me.”

Closer would be warmer… but also more tempting.  If Ni~ya refused the offer, Masashi would want to know why; if he did as he was told, Masashi would soon _sense_ why Ni~ya ought to have refused.  Either way, he couldn’t win.

_So, should I lose and be warm, or lose and be cold._

With a huff of resignation, Ni~ya went to add more fuel to the fires, doing as Masashi had suggested by adding the most to the blaze furthest from them and a bit less to the others.  Then he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders like a shawl, grabbed a pillow, and flopped down on a sandy spot at the captain’s side.  Masashi gave a smirk and closed his eyes, obviously quite pleased with himself.

“Was never afraid of you,” retorted Ni~ya grumpily.  “It was Tetsuya.”

That seemed to surprise his companion.

“My bondmate?!  I never knew _anyone_ to find him intimidating.  It’s always me they try to steer clear of.”

Ni~ya tugged the blanket a bit closer around himself.

“Your looks are… imposing,” he allowed, “Being so much taller than everyone else.  But I can’t have been the only person to find his empathic abilities daunting.”

“Again, it’s usually _my_ abilities everyone worries about.  People don’t think of syphoning off emotions as hostile the way they do empathic projection.”

“I don’t see why,” Ni~ya persisted.  “Draining someone of all hope is just as destructive as flooding them with rage.”

 “You’re right in theory, of course.  But Tetsuya would never have done that.  He was a very gentle person.”

“I figured that out eventually _._ ” Ni~ya sighed.  “Sorry for mentioning him.  It must… hurt talking about him now that he’s gone.”

Masashi turned his head to study the other man closely.

“You know… we weren’t mates _that_ way – not the way you Taureans mean it when you say ‘mate’.  Nothing romantic.  It’s just… an empathetic bond, nothing special.  I mean,” Masashi corrected himself, “They’re not _uncommon_.”

Ni~ya licked his lips nervously.

“I guessed as much _,_ watching the two of you together.  And then with Chika and Taiga talking about _their_ bond even though they’re siblings.  N-not that some species don’t do that, but…,” he shook his head.  “Either way, you must have loved him.”

“I… cared for him immensely,” admitted Masashi, his voice tinged with sorrow.  “He was my closest friend.”

Impulsively, Ni~ya reached out and took Masashi’s hand in his.

“I’m sorry.”

They lay silently, hand in hand, until they both drifted off to sleep.

 

Ni~ya spent the next several days improving their camp as best he could.  He removed everything of use from the relatively sparse ship, stacking the cargo pods along the exterior of the tent as extra insulation.  During his third trip out with crates, he noticed a trap door in the floor similar to the one he’d climbed out of through the roof.  Closer inspection revealed that it was, indeed, a second escape hatch, and that a long metal ladder could be extended out and down from the cargo bay.  He could come and go as he pleased from underneath without opening the main doors and risking more sand getting in.

Ni~ya also collected the bodies of the dead and buried them one by one at the prow of the ship.  None of them were Taurean, and he had no idea of their spiritual beliefs or death rituals, but he hoped that whatever spirits they prayed to would make allowances for his ignorance and good intentions.

Masashi, who was still unable to stand, remained in the tent resting.  Ni~ya supposed being that idle probably bothered the captain, so he didn’t say much about his activities during the evenings.  Because the sunlight never lasted more than a few hours and they couldn’t really afford to waste the lanterns they had, Ni~ya spent a large portion of each day at Masashi’s side.  And due to the captain’s lack of movement making him perpetually cold, Ni~ya developed the habit of sitting close to the captain for the added warmth and comfort. Despite his initial reluctance, he often fell asleep with Masashi’s hand cradled in his own, swathed in every blanket they possessed, their sleeping mats as close to the fires as safety would allow.

Masashi didn’t seem to have much of an appetite, usually begging off the evening meal with: “I ate something earlier.”  Ni~ya never found any of the ration packs from Masashi’s supposed meals, but Masashi claimed to have burned them as ‘extra fuel’.

 

After another gruelling day, Ni~ya returned to the camp and collapsed down into a heap near one of the fire pits, head hanging miserably between his knees.  He wanted so badly to lash out at something to relieve his stress, or cry if no other release could be had.  He worried that his negativity would hinder his companion’s mood and healing, so he kept away as best he could until those feelings subsided.

“What’s wrong, Pet?” Masashi’s deep baritone rumbled from the shadowy entrance of the tent.  “And don’t tell me it’s nothing.  I don’t have to be an empath to see your upset.”

Something within Ni~ya broke, and he let out a harsh sob.  It was all too much.  He couldn’t bear it any longer.  Tears would have streamed down his face had they not evaporated before even having a chance to spill from his eyes. 

Warm comfort seemed to envelop him then, like a pair of strong limbs holding him close.  Love.  The wonderful feeling of loving and being loved.  His love for Masashi swelled within him, drowning out the despondency.  He found himself at Masashi’s side, gathering the injured man up into his arms and pressing his salt-stained cheek to the captain’s neck.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?” he asked with a hiccup.

The invisible hug seemed to tighten.

“It’s the best I can do for you, Pet,” Masashi murmured.  “I’m sorry I can’t take away the sorrow.”

Ni~ya continued to hold his companion, absently rocking back and forth until he was able to steady his voice enough to explain:

“I finished the last of the graves.”

Masashi hummed in acknowledgement, and the balmy affection grew again.

“This damnable atmosphere is so dry, it’s practically mummified them,” Ni~ya continued.  “I know their souls aren’t in their bodies any longer, but seeing them that way is so horrible, and I… honestly, you’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.  If you weren’t here….”

“But I _am_ here, Pet,” reassured Masashi.  “And I wouldn’t leave you even if I could.”

Ni~ya sat back and searched Masashi’s face for hints of deceit, finger tracing along the captain’s jawline unconsciously.

“Your cheeks are cold,” he noticed after a while.  “Shall I bring you one of my blankets?”

Masashi’s expression turned sultry.

“You should kiss me warm instead.”

Ni~ya had never wanted anything more in his life, and he was relatively certain that it had nothing to do with Masashi’s empathic powers playing with his mind.

“Y-you’re teasing me,” he accused, staring at the captain dubiously.

“I am not.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I can.  I _am_.  It’s what you want, isn’t it?” Masashi coaxed.  “What you’ve always wanted… since the first moment you met me?  It’s why you were unsettled by Tetsuya and kept your distance from me.”

Ni~ya squirmed uncomfortably under Masashi’s smouldering gaze.

“You knew,” Ni~ya reproached.

“I did.  But you’re misinterpreting my opinions about it,” continued Masashi.

“You never said anything,” countered Ni~ya.  “What else am I to think but that you didn’t want me in return?”

“That I was respecting your choice.  You didn’t seem inclined to admit your feelings, so I couldn’t be sure you were interested in pursuing the attraction you felt.  Besides, the middle of a war isn’t exactly the ideal time for kindling a romance.”

“And now?”

The corner of Masashi’s lips twitched in a supressed smirk as he leaned the tiniest bit closer.

“We may not have much time left.  I’ve grown tired of waiting.”

Ni~ya _almost_ forced himself to resist… until he realized how pointless it was.  Stupid, in fact.  He wanted Masashi; Masashi seemed to want him.  Even if it didn’t last, could he really afford to pass up such an opportunity?

Without another thought, Ni~ya bent down and pressed his lips to Masashi’s.  They were cold and rather chapped, but that didn’t matter.  He was _kissing_ Masashi!  And sweet mercy, Masashi was kissing him back.  Their lips moved in tandem, tongues teasing and entwining in perfect unison.  Ni~ya’s eyelids fluttered closed as he focused his entire consciousness on the heavenly feeling of the man he’d craved so long finally in his grasp.

Ni~ya could feel the earth spinning beneath him as if he were inebriated; gently as he could, he laid the captain back down amidst the pillows and shifted his weight onto his elbows.  Arms somewhat freed, he allowed his hands to wander: along the column of Masashi’s neck, over his cheek, through his hair.  Savouring and mapping out every millimetre of his new lover with rapt fascination.

The captain didn’t move much, fingers just ghosting over Ni~ya’s hip, yet even that brief caress sent tendrils of pleasure slithering through his body.  Ni~ya gasped as cool flesh teased beneath the hem of his shirt, and Masashi chuckled deep in his chest.

“Stop holding back, Pet,” he urged.  “It won’t be quite how you envisioned, I’m sure, but don’t hesitate to take what you want from me.”

“I… don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“You won’t, Love.”

Ni~ya made a desperate grab for one of the unused blankets, clumsily drawing it around them both in a makeshift cocoon.  Then he pushed the covers draped over Masashi’s chest down to his waist and unfastened enough of the buttons that his touch could roam freely over the captain’s torso.  He didn’t attempt to remove the shirt completely; even partially shielded by the tent canvas, it was too frigid for that.  He kept his eyes closed, kissing Masashi’s lips and tracing each muscular curve and dip of his abdomen, taking extra care near the still-bruised sternum.

“Want you,” he heard himself admit. “I’ve wanted you for so long.  Wanted this.”

“I know.”

Masashi’s voice was impossibly collected.

“If only my body weren’t so broken, I’d….”

“There you go again saying useless things,” Ni~ya interjected impatiently.  “Just kiss me!”

Lustful hunger surged through him, filling his entire body with liquid fire.  Longing and pleasure coiled around and around one another until he felt utterly lost in blissful madness.

“Y-you’re… oh gods,” he gave a breathy moan.  “You’re doing that, aren’t you?”

“It’s so easy to amplify your want,” Masashi purred.  “Your desires are already so strong.”

As if to prove his point, another wave of desire washed over Ni~ya, and he cried out in elation, trembling from head to foot.

“No one’s ever yearned for me as much as you do.”

“No one!” Ni~ya agreed wildly.  “No one could want you like I do.”

His hand snaked beneath the waistband of Masashi’s trousers, desperation fanned and ego appeased to find his lover fully aroused. Without thought or pause, he disappeared beneath the blankets, taking Masashi’s heated length in his mouth.  Ni~ya licked and sucked, stroked and squeezed, determined to provide as much ecstasy as he received.  The appreciative groan his ministrations met with proved his efforts were not in vain.

“Ni~ya….”

His name uttered so wantonly was all it took to plunge Ni~ya head-long into bliss.  Vibrant white spots exploded behind his eyes, hot release flooded over his tongue, and with a contented sigh, his consciousness faded.

 

When he came back to himself, he was lying beneath the pile of covers, pressed comfortably to Masashi’s side, arm casually thrown across his lover’s hips.

“Welcome back,” the captain greeted, his eye sparkling cheerfully in the firelight.

“How long was I gone?” Ni~ya asked gruffly, his throat dry and sore.

“Hard to say,” Masashi answered indifferently.  “Wasn’t entirely here myself.  You’re quite talented.”

Ni~ya felt too mellow to be as flustered by such a statement as he normally would have been.  Nevertheless, he asked:

“Is that a problem?”

Masashi placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

“Not in the slightest.  I’d never begrudge a lover his previous pleasures.  I just wish I’d been able to do more for you physically than lie here.”

“I can wait until you’re fully recovered for that,” assured Ni~ya. 

“I’m not convinced I _am_ going to recover, Pet,” Masashi warned. 

“You will,” Ni~ya asserted.  “We’ll find a way out of here.  Get you somewhere with a proper doctor to treat your injuries.  Somewhere the authorities won’t find us, and….”

Masashi laughed soundlessly.

“You think I’m naïve, don’t you!”

“I think… you’re dreaming.  But I don’t blame you for it.  Dreams of peace and freedom are what keep the rebellion alive.  And the hope of making you mine someday is certainly excellent motivation for me to continue living.”

Ni~ya lay motionless, unable to believe the words he’d just heard.

“I… already am yours,” he breathed quietly.

Masashi kissed his head again.

“That’s as may be, Pet, but I’m going to do it properly: formal declaration, courtship, the whole works.  Assuming you want me, of course.”

“I thought Neposhi didn’t….”

“Taureans do,” interrupted Masashi.  “You deserve a lover… a _mate_ who respects your customs.”

Ni~ya’s voice caught in his throat, so he kept silent.  After all, Masashi surely knew what he was feeling.

 

The sound of unfamiliar voices shocked Ni~ya from his slumber.  He hadn’t noticed himself drifting off in Masashi’s embrace, and now suddenly it was morning and there were _voices_!

“S’wrong?” his lover muttered drowsily.

“Don’t you hear that?” Ni~ya hissed.

He strained his ears to be sure.  Yes, someone was definitely conversing nearby, and there was a vaguely familiar snuffling noise that suggested some sort of animals with them.  Quietly as he could, he rose and hastened through the second tent in search of the weapons he’d brought down with them.  He places one in the captain’s hand, leaning in, barely breathing the words against Masashi’s ear:

“Keep quiet, Love.  I’m going up to investigate.”

He gave his lover a brief kiss, and hurried up the slope toward the surface.

It was difficult to judge the direction of the sound with the wind blowing as it was. Ni~ya paused often, going into a low crouch as he listened and scanned what he could see for any hints of movement.  Their words were unintelligible to him, but some instinct told him they were not hostile.  He moved closer.

Soon, the strangers came into view.  About twenty metres from the stern of the ship, he spotted them.  Five he counted: an old woman, three men of indeterminate age, and a young-ish looking child who kept well to the back.  There was also a herd of seventy to eighty shaggy, waist-high creatures, trundling here and there nosing about probably in search of food.  Each of the herders had a wooden cane, which they used to redirect any animal that strayed too far.  The way the child reached out without hesitation, shoving them about or scratching their ears affectionately led Ni~ya to assume they were some sort of non-aggressive livestock.

He tucked his weapon against his back under the waistband of his trousers as he approached them.  When the chance at a rescue had finally occurred, the last thing he wanted to do was frighten them off or appear hostile.

“Hello,” he gave a friendly call and raised his now-empty hands in a wave.

The momentary alarm his appearance caused seemed to fade quickly.  The woman spoke over her shoulder in a commanding voice, and then walked confidently toward him.  She extended her right arm out, then crossed it over her chest to her left shoulder in some sort of greeting.

“Hello.  I Samira am,” she said with an unexpected oscillating inflection.  “You Taurean are?”

“I am,” he acknowledged with a polite bow.  “Ni~ya.”

“This ship yours is?” one of the men asked, repeating the gesture the woman had made.

Ni~ya had no ownership interest in the ship whatsoever, but technicalities of truth were less important than being understood.

“Yes,” he declared, “Mine.  We crashed.”

The verb seemed to confuse them all; they turned to one another, speaking rapidly in some entirely unidentifiable dialect.

“Crashed,” Ni~ya repeated with no better luck.  “Uh… fell?”

He gestured with his hand, mimicking the ship flying along and then taking a dive downward.  The combination seemed to get his point across.

“Many you how is?” another of the men inquired.

Ni~ya puzzled on that for a minute.

“H-how many?” he asked uncertainly.  “Two.  Me,” he pointed to his chest, “My mate,” he pointed toward the ship.

_Mate._   His heart swelled with hope and excitement.  Masashi finally his and a chance to escape from this frozen hell – it was almost too good to be true.

The nomads cast suspicious glances toward the ship, as if the aforementioned ‘mate’ might spring out at them at any moment.  All save the child, who looked excited and curious.

“We fire in sky saw,” the third man confirmed.  “Nine days.”

Nine days!  Ni~ya hadn’t realized it had been so long.

“Is there a settlement nearby?” Ni~ya requested.  “A doctor?  Someone who has knowledge of healing.  My… mate is injured.”

They all gave him blank looks.  Obviously he was speaking too quickly.

“My mate,” Ni~ya repeated slowly, “Is…”

He cast about for a word they might recognize.

“Hurt.  Sick.”

He laid a hand to his forehead.  The old woman Samira nodded in understanding.

“You me show,” she said, pointing toward the ship as well.  “I healer am.”

 

Samira followed the alien back toward the wreckage of his space travelling vessel.  She wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of descending under the massive metal heap, particularly since she couldn’t be sure of what she might find there.  She wasn’t one to shrink from a gruesome injury or refuse the aid of her skills to any who might need it, but she had little hope that there was much she could do.  After such a crash, it was a miracle anyone was alive at all.  That much was clear from the blood-caked wound clearly visible on the back of the stranger’s head, though he didn’t seem to regard it in the slightest. 

_Too preoccupied with his mate’s injuries,_ she concluded. 

She sent a silent prayer to the Goddess that the mate’s injuries might not prove fatal.  Watching life and hope fade was always so heart-breaking.

“Gran?  Do you need my help?” Tavit called eagerly from the top of the sloping path.

Samira rolled her eyes.  Adventurous children thought nothing of the potential danger when there was something new to explore.

“If I want your help, I’ll call,” she answered curtly.  “Help you uncles tend the mohg.”

She cast a critical eye over the small encampment the stranger had brought her to: flimsy tents and three small fires.  Well, he’d done the best he could, she supposed.

“Masashi?  It’s all right, my love.  They’re nomads who live here, I think, and one of them is a healer who is willing to look after you.”

The healer didn’t catch a single word of the babbled conversation; she was immobilized with horror, staring at the scene before her.  The strange man was kneeling beside a desiccated corpse, its withered hand grasped between his.  Even from such a distance, she had no doubt the person he called ‘mate’ had been dead for days – probably since the crash.  The stranger continued prattling on sweetly, brushing dry strands of brittle hair from the face, calling it ‘my love’ and…

She turned away in revulsion as he leaned over to kiss its shrivelled lips.

_Miserable wretch.  He’s gone utterly mad!_

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I leave it up to the reader to decide how much of what went on between Ni~ya and Masashi was… physically taking place, as opposed to simple hallucination on Ni~ya’s part. I wasn't going to tag this as necrophilia, because there really is no attraction to the dead here. Still, better to err on the side of warning.  
> 2) Normally I would omit the punctuation from people’s names when writing. However, since these beings are intended to be non-human, I figured I’d let Ni~ya keep his nice little tilde. Masashi has two perfectly functional eyes (from what I can tell). But so many of his hair styles have his left eye totally obscured that I decided to make him a species that has only one eye.  
> 3) The planet’s name [六 龜 in Chinese, 六 亀in Japanese which would be pronounced "roku kame"] means “six turtles”; it's based off the Chinese [legend](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ao_\(turtle\)) of the great turtle whose legs were cut off to support the heavens.  
> 4) Other characters mentioned in the story but not tagged for obvious reasons: Masashi’s bondmate Tetsuya (L’Arc~en~Ciel). The crew Kiri (kannivalism), Kei (kannivalism), Yuchi (kannivalism/sukekiyo). Mitsuo is allegedly the given name of Hitsuki (Nightmare/Gremlins); Hagino is allegedly the family name of Közi (Malice Mizer) for whom Masashi was a support member. Chika (Dangan NO LIMIT) and Taiga (ex- My Fairytale) are allegedly actual siblings.  
> 5) Japanese is structured rather like the grammar I’ve used for the nomads: subject object verb rather than English’s subject verb object. The names are of Azerbaijani/Armenian origin, because I thought they were pretty.  
> 6) Natural dessication, or spontaneous mummification, is something that can actually happen under the right circumstances, such as in dry climates with extremely high or low temperatures where the tissue dehydrates before it has a chance to decay. The climate on this planet is rather like the Gobi desert - cold and extremely dry.


End file.
